


Before We Turn to Stone

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: Bleak House - Charles Dickens
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The progression of love between a maid and her mistress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before We Turn to Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This story is my baby. I really was terrified to receive this prompt because, well, it’s a little daunting, isn’t it? I put extensive effort into this – reading through the book (I’m sorry, Dickens, I still don’t like you, even if your characters are totally gay for each other) and rewatching the miniseries a few dozen times (SUCH a pain having to look at Gillian Anderson so much). This story was my therapy, my escape, and one of my most rewarding writing challenges. Thank you, dragonwine, for your supportive criticism and beta efforts. I heartily appreciate your assistance! Written for kitnkabootle.

The heavy haze of slumber begins to settle upon Lady Dedlock, easing her exhausted form into weightless submission. She settles herself comfortably beneath the protective warmth of the blankets and curls her body against the one beside her, noting that this is the first night in ages in which she has felt like the carefree woman she formerly was before she became the wife of a baronet. She feels an emotion unfamiliar to her – something eerily akin to happiness. It’s been so long, and the term is so foreign, that she hesitates to attribute the label to the shift in her mood. She forces the thoughts from her mind; there is plenty of time to muse over this in the morning. For once, she looks forward to the breaking of day.

 

She dreams of flowers, of springtime, of garlanding honey hair with daisies and marigolds. She dreams of smiles and kisses, of sunlight and feeling alive.

 

A loud knock jostles Lady Dedlock from her sleep, reminding her as she blinks confusedly around the room that her dreams are so often out of reach.

 

Darkened blue-gray eyes focus sharply on the door as the fist raps against it once more. Her breath hitches in her throat and her heart pounds hard in her chest. She reaches a hand to the warm body still asleep beside her and shakes the bare arm roughly.

 

“Wake up,” Lady Dedlock hisses.

 

Rosa stirs, rubbing sleepily at her eyes. “Honoria?” she asks. Her eyes catch the concerned look on her mistress’s face and she bolts upright. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Someone’s at the door,” Lady Dedlock responds briskly as she gets to her feet. The chill in the room hits her then and she shivers, an ominous dread settling in the pit of her stomach. When the doorknob rattles, she gasps. “You must hide. Now.”

 

Rosa nods obediently, quickly throwing her shift over her naked body. Even in the dim light of the room, Lady Dedlock can make out the beautifully pale features of Rosa’s body. Even now, as the knocking grows more insistent, she’s inconveniently overcome by a fierce desire for the maid.

 

As she crosses the room to the door, she watches as Rosa gathers her dressing gown and quickly stows herself inside the wardrobe. The door clicks quietly as she hides herself amongst Lady Dedlock’s gowns, chemises, corsets, and petticoats. She envies her maid and wishes she could hide away amongst the velvety folds of her clothing. She is overcome by fear as she twists the key in the lock, not knowing what awaits her behind the door.

 

All remaining color on her face drains away as she sees the pale form of her husband standing before her.

 

“You sleep like the dead, my love,” Sir Leicester remarks as he brushes past her into her room.

 

Lady Dedlock’s anxious eyes dart to the wardrobe, her heart beating so loudly that she can barely hear her husband explain that he feels unwell and has been unable to sleep. She longs to push him out the door. She cannot bear to look in his kind, loving face while her lover remains tucked away.

 

“Shall I fetch a doctor?” she asks, her voice thick with fright that she guiltily cannot attribute to his health.

 

“No, no,” he responds dismissively, crossing to Lady Dedlock’s side of the bed. He shrugs his dressing gown over his shoulders and settles himself in the bed. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.” Leicester smiles reassuringly. “I simply knew I’d feel better if you were close.”

 

“You give me far too much credit.”

 

“I fear I don’t give you nearly enough.” He pats the empty space beside him, still warm from Rosa’s body. “Come to bed, my darling.”

 

Lady Dedlock passes the wardrobe, her eyes remaining firmly locked upon the floor in front of her, and lies beside her husband. She kisses his clammy cheek and rests her head upon the pillow. Her stomach churns as she catches the faint scent of her maid upon the fabric. Her husband takes her trembling hand and presses it to his chest, patting it soothingly as he closes his eyes and prepares for sleep.

 

She feels the sturdy beat of his heart against her palm and wishes her own would relax to its normal cadence. She cannot calm down. She cannot sleep.

 

She can do nothing but wait.

 

\---

 

_Despite the protestations of her husband, Lady Dedlock pulled her shawl closer around her face and closed the large oak door behind her. She wondered momentarily if Leicester was right, if the cold rain would induce a harrowing disservice to her health. The steady stream of rain pounded upon her face, chilling her to her very core. It was entirely possible. Perhaps she’d develop a cold. Perhaps there was a chance—just a sliver of a possibility—that she would meet her demise at the hands of another day of rainfall._

_Lady Dedlock did not want to die, per se. It was true that she was ambivalent about her eventual end; whenever it would happen, she had no fear. The strength of her desire for a change in her present situation gave way to reckless thoughts. A bout of fever, a hacking cough—anything would be an improvement to the monotony that controlled the passing of each day._

_She cast her blue-gray eyes about her, catching the sight of the same bloated clouds, the same swaying trees, the same drab palate of colors painting the landscape around Chesney Wold. She longed for a change of scenery, longed for anything that strayed from the routine of her life. It had been the same for days, weeks, years. She nearly forgot that there had once been a time when she had been a child, or a time when she loved a man named James. When she reminisced, which was infrequent, she thought of her past as something separate, as if it had never belonged to her, as if it was another life altogether._

_Had there ever been a time when she’d been Honoria Barbary, or had she always been Lady Dedlock, wife to Sir Leicester Dedlock? Had any individuality ever existed, any singular train of thought? When had she done something solely for herself?_

_She had her strolls around the grounds – that was a freedom that belonged to her. Though Leicester worried after her health, he would never stop her from seeking the peace of fresh air and stretching her limbs. He’d accompany her on occasion, but as the years passed his stamina for walks began to wane. Though she enjoyed the steady comfort of his company, she was thankful for her solitude._

_The rain began to pick up, blanketing the grass with rivulets of water. The wetness underfoot made each step precarious and, once, she slipped slightly, knowing she’d have to make her way to the footpath. The trail of dirt and rocks was nearby and she headed in its direction._

_She’d never been clumsy, but today, on this of all days, Lady Dedlock’s feet came up from beneath her. She tumbled down, hitting the damp ground hard on her hip. She winced and pictured the change in the pigmentation of her pale flesh that would bloom in blues and blacks. The unsightly bruise would undoubtedly sting for days._

_Tears sprang suddenly to Lady Dedlock’s eyes and she blinked them away, hating at once her weakness. She hated the rain, hated her tumble, hated the condition of her life. She’d never been the type of woman to reside within her defeat; under typical circumstances she’d have been on her feet again and the mud would have been brushed off her dress. Now, to her chagrin, she could feel the desire to get off the ground slip away from her. It was as if she belonged there, amongst the dirt and mud, blinded by her own tears of misery._

_Perhaps she would stay there. Perhaps, for just a little while, she would allow herself to become one with the rubble._

_“My Lady!” came a shriek from behind her._

_Startled by the shrill cry, Lady Dedlock twisted her sore body to see the source from which it came. Her brows rose as the slight form of Rosa, her lady’s maid, came hurtling towards her._

_“My Lady, are you all right?” Rosa asked, skittering to a halt in front of her. She slipped on the grass but steadied herself before she met the same fate as her mistress._

_“I am fine.”_

_Rosa knelt beside her, her hands coming to Lady Dedlock’s arm. From this vantage point, Lady Dedlock could see that the milky features of her skin were paler than usual, as if she were infused with fright. The thought warmed her._

_“I was watching from the window,” Rosa confessed, color rising to her cheeks. “I saw you fall. I…I came as quickly as I could.”_

_“You were watching?” Lady Dedlock repeated, watching the young woman’s face. Her stomach tightened as droplets of rain kissed her face and fell from the perfect line of her jaw. “Why?”_

_“I thought…I’d wondered…I wanted to be ready in case you needed me, my Lady.”_

_“Help me up,” Lady Dedlock ordered, holding out her hand. Rosa clutched her hand tightly and braced her free hand around her mistress’s elbow, slowly guiding her to her feet. “You are very attentive, Rosa.”_

_Rosa gave a smile. “Of course. It is my job to pay attention to you,” she added. Her voiced lowered: “It is my duty to watch you and be at your side.”_

_Lady Dedlock sighed. “What a monotonous life you must lead.”_

_“Oh, not at all, my Lady!” Rosa guided her towards the house, her arm still securely supporting Lady Dedlock’s. “I love my job. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”_

_“Is that so?”_

_Rosa nodded heartily, her fingers tightening protectively on her arm. “I am very happy in my post.”_

_Lady Dedlock stared at the house looming before them, hidden behind sheets of steady downpour. “I envy your happiness, Rosa.”_

_“My Lady is not happy?” Rosa asked, her eyes focused on the face of her mistress._

_“I don’t know what I am.”_

_When they reached the house, Rosa stepped ahead and opened the door. Lady Dedlock walked into the foyer of her home, regarding it as if she’d never seen it before and as if she’d never see anything else. She shivered as the weight of her cold, wet clothes bore down into her body._

_“We must get you into some warm clothes, my Lady. Or perhaps you’d like a warm bath?” Rosa blinked and stared at her mistress, neglecting her own dampened attire._

_Lady Dedlock’s eyes focused upon her then, unable to look away as the young woman’s flaxen hair clung to the shapely outline of her face. She reached an unsteady hand and brushed it out of her eyes, ignoring the sudden burning desire to cup the girl’s cheek in her palm. “Change yourself first. When you are finished, you may attend me in my room.”_

_“But my Lady—“_

_Lady Dedlock tutted and smiled, tucking her fingers under Rosa’s protesting chin. “I care much more for your health than my own. I can’t have you becoming ill.”_

_“Yes, my Lady,” Rosa said obediently. She bowed her acquiescence to her mistress’s wishes and left._

_Lady Dedlock looked upon her now bereft hand, marveling at the curious heat that now pulsed throughout each finger. She was struck as if the ghosted silhouette of her young maid still stood before her, her pale beauty speckled with rain like a blossoming rose coated with morning dew. She brought the hand to her face, cupped her own cheek, and headed to her rooms._

_\---_

A clock chimes in the distance, alerting Lady Dedlock to the lateness of the hour. She has been awake for some time, listening to the irregular inhalations and exhalations of her husband’s breath. He has stirred several times, once wheezing for breath and once to whimper through a bad dream. It has been a long time since she has lain with her husband and she has been unwise to the knowledge that his sleep is so erratic and fitful. She worries for him as a child might worry for her father, or a woman for her friend. She will speak to Mrs. Rouncewell about fixing him tea with chamomile or mint before he retires tomorrow night. She will also consider sending a note to the Lincolnshire doctor in the morning.

 

Leicester squeezes her hand but remains asleep. She cannot blame him for seeking her company but tonight, of all nights…

 

She glances at the wardrobe and clearly pictures Rosa curled in the corner, her young limbs aching from the uncomfortably held position. Rosa will not complain, nor will she blame her mistress for the necessity of the degrading action. It is a risk they’ve known since the affair began but, somehow, however naively, Lady Dedlock had begun to hope that nothing would dampen this newfound love. They’ve been careful, always careful, and she had somehow fooled herself into thinking that they could remain blissfully adulterous without fear.

She is a fool.

 

Lady Dedlock blinks and is surprised to find her eyelashes wet with tears. She looks up, inhales deeply, and does everything she can think of to avoid falling into a fit of emotions that she cannot control. It will not do to wake her husband, who would put aside his poor health to ensure that she was at ease. It will also not do to worry her maid, who would run through burning woods to be at her side.

 

She must think of a way, any way, to fix the situation before it buries them all.

\---

 

_Lady Dedlock insisted that they proceed to London for several weeks for the sake of a change of scenery. Sir Leicester, always abiding, allowed them to leave at once. As she found herself shut up in her rooms in the smaller abode, she found herself longing once more for the country._

_It seemed futile to want for anything, for as soon as it was hers she found it did not suit her. At Chesney Wold, she’d yearned for the bustle of the city. She’d receive a great deal more visitors in London and would no doubt have more to occupy her time, but even as she seated herself at her small dressing table, she wondered what the point had been._

_She stared absently into the looking glass, looking past herself as if it were not her reflection that she saw. It was nothing but empty space, a body taken up by a woman whom she did not recognize._

_Lady Dedlock’s train of thought was interrupted by the sound of Rosa behind her, returning to her side after stoking the fire. The cold draft seeped in from the windows, chilling Lady Dedlock to the bone, and Rosa had seen to it herself to ensure her mistress’s comfort._

_Rosa had come to do this frequently; she premeditated her Lady’s desires before even Lady Dedlock knew she wanted them. It was as if Rosa were always in the mindset of pleasing her mistress and had become attuned to her private thoughts._

_Lady Dedlock studied her curiously as the girl began to tuck and curl her mistress’s hair into a fashionable coif, framing her elegant face with hair pinned to perfection. Lady Dedlock sighed in her pleasure at the luxurious feel of the young woman’s nimble fingers in her hair. Hortense had never taken such care with her, had never treated her as a fragile treasure. Rosa, on the other hand, treated her as if she’d never handled something so exquisitely fine in her life._

_“That’s very nice, Rosa,” Lady Dedlock complimented, the words feeling foreign, yet right, on her tongue. Issuing praise to her servants was something to which she gave little thought, but each compliment she paid Rosa was ardently meant and altogether new._

_“Thank you, my Lady. I have been practicing,” Rosa admitted, setting down the silver brush._

_“Have you?”_

_She nodded. “At night, when Mrs. Rouncewell is asleep.”_

_“I should very much like to see your hair styled as mine,” Lady Dedlock said, catching Rosa’s eye in the mirror._

_Rosa’s cheeks bloomed with color. “Oh no, ma’am…I couldn’t…”_

_“You could,” Lady Dedlock proffered. “And why do you practice alone in the dark?”_

_Rosa’s eyes were steady though her tongue darted along her pink lips to wet them. “I want to please you, my Lady.”_

_Lady Dedlock felt the chill leave her as a warmth took its place. “You do please me, Rosa. Very much.”_

_Rosa smiled then and Lady Dedlock found herself taken aback by the beauty of the girl in a state of such obvious happiness. Rosa had such a simple loveliness and yet seemed entirely unaware. On Lady Dedlock’s part, she’s been accustomed for the entirety of her life with things of exquisite aesthetic value, but nothing had held her attention quite like this village girl’s face._

_Lady Dedlock nodded. “You have done well to perfect my hair. Now, child, which jewelry do you suggest I wear?”_

_Rosa blushed again. “Your pearl earrings, my Lady.”_

_Lady Dedlock nodded approvingly and set to reach for the small box that contained them, but Rosa’s quick hands reached it first. She scooped the pearls into her small palm with a sly grin and carefully nudged aside a ringlet of Lady Dedlock’s hair to fasten one pearl to her ear. The dedication to which Rosa bejeweled her elicited a peaceful sigh from Lady Dedlock’s lips and she closed her eyes, enjoying the few precious moments of utter devotion. Rosa shifted to her mistress’s other side and repeated the process, her delicate fingers brushing against the lobe of her ear and the incredibly sensitive flesh of her neck._

_Lady Dedlock shivered, her eyes snapping open in shock as Rosa’s knuckles passed once more over the flesh of her throat. How had Rosa known that such a sensitive spot existed behind her ear when not even she had known? Certainly she had lain with her husband; she had also lain with James Hawden. No one, not even herself, had known that her own flesh could come alive at the simplest of touches. She felt alight with feelings of such intensity that she lost her breath._

_“My Lady?”_

_Lady Dedlock cleared her throat and shifted on her chair, attempting to dismiss these confusing feelings that had assailed her. “Time is of the essence, Rosa. I must not be late for my dinner engagement.”_

_“Of course, my Lady.” Rosa nodded submissively and scanned her eyes over the contents of her mistress’s vanity. “If I may suggest a necklace?” She reached for the silver chain that was beaded with one perfect pearl and held it out for Lady Dedlock’s inspection._

_“Such an understated necklace for a dinner?”_

_Rosa nodded, taking the liberty to drape the necklace across Lady Dedlock’s clavicle. “It will enhance your beauty, my Lady.”_

_Lady Dedlock shuddered, her lips parting slightly as Rosa’s nimble fingers worked the clasp behind her neck. The quick brushing of her hands against her flesh sent Lady Dedlock into a bevy of impure and uninhibited thoughts. She vehemently wished that she was spending her evening in the company of a village girl rather than London’s finest elite._

_Lady Dedlock pursed her lips in disapproval of her own thoughts and quickly rose to her feet. “Thank you, Rosa. I appreciate your assistance.”_

_Rosa sunk into a slight bow. “It is my pleasure to serve you,” she whispered, her lashes fluttering as she lowered her gaze to the carpet._

_Lady Dedlock attempted to swallow around the lump in her throat. After quickly dismissing her maid, she turned to her window and clutched at her throat. She gazed at her reflection and wondered who the woman was staring back at her with wide, confused eyes._

\---

Some time has passed since Leicester has last stirred. Lady Dedlock carefully and slowly eases her hand from his chest, raptly watching his face to see if she has disturbed his slumber. He sleeps on and Lady Dedlock issues a sigh of relief as she prepares herself for her next challenge.

 

With slow movements and hitched breath, she slips out of bed, her toes kissing the cold hardwood floor beneath her. She tests her weight on the floor, watching Leicester once more to ensure that he remains asleep. Fortified, Lady Dedlock takes a step, and then another, until she reaches the wardrobe.

 

She does not immediately reach for the small pewter handle of the mahogany closet. She licks her lips, imagining that she can hear Rosa’s breath rise and fall within it. She conjures the image of the lithe girl curled amongst her dresses, perhaps pressing her face into the folds of a chemise and inhaling the lingering scent of her mistress.

 

The thought crosses Lady Dedlock’s mind that she could leave Rosa in the wardrobe. It is what she _should_ do.  She risks exposure with the opening of the door; the hinges have been known to creek in the past. For the safety of her marriage, and for the safety of her love affair, she seriously considers leaving Rosa folded uncomfortably inside. There will be only a few hours until morning, until Leicester will rouse from his sleep and head to his rooms to ready himself for the day. There will only be a few hours –

 

\--until Rosa will be expected to be bustling about her quarters to wake and dress her mistress.

 

Would Leicester expect to be woken by Rosa? Would he find it strange if she did not appear? Would he, God forbid, dismiss her on the grounds that she was neglecting her duty as a lady’s maid?

 

Lady Dedlock shudders at the thought. Her heart thuds painfully. Too many uncontrollable variables lie out of reach. Too many futures are held within her hands.

 

After moments of silent pondering, Lady Dedlock curls her fingers around the knob and pulls. Behind her, the bed rustles and her blood runs cold.

 

\---

 

_Lady Dedlock pondered the retreating back of Mrs. Rouncewell as she let herself out of the parlor, mulling over the information she had just been given. Surely the older woman had been incorrect in her assessment, or perhaps had misinterpreted it?_

_She darted her tongue across dry lips and glanced at the window, taking in the sight of her grounds at Chesney Wold. It was the same bleak overcast day as ever and the sight of it would have bored her had she not been preoccupied by one singular train of thought for the past several weeks since her return from London._

_Rosa._

_She could hardly remember a time she’d ever felt such a thrill, such a solitary notion of pleasure at the touch of anyone, much less a woman. She’d loved James Hawden, and had desired him, and had given herself to him—but twenty years had dulled whatever sensations she may have experienced. Despite the cruel tricks of time, Lady Dedlock knew herself to have been moved for the first time in such a way._

_She’d been considered ‘cold’ and ‘frigid’ for the entirety of her life, even as a child. She’d heard it so often that she eventually began to embody it, began to believe her blood to run cold in her veins._

_Having proof telling her otherwise unsettled her._

_Was it that her feelings were attributed to Rosa that unnerved her, or that they existed at all? She hardly knew what to do with this desire—not that there was anything that she_ could _do. A woman of such status did not bed her servant, male or female._

_She had tried, and failed, to convince herself that it was not desire that she felt. She’d considered it all: a trick of her mind, a sudden chill in the air, a lapse in judgment._

_In the end, she conceded to the fact that she, Lady Dedlock, wife of Sir Leicester Dedlock, possessed an attraction to her lady’s maid._

_There was no place for this attraction and Lady Dedlock had locked it away, knowing she must never respond in such a way again. She’d kept her distance from Rosa, had very nearly attended to herself despite conventions of society, and had set her mind to whatever business ventures occupied her husband._

_The result, she found, was a considerable downturn in whatever happiness existed within her at any present moment._

_And now, with the information she’d been given by Mrs. Rouncewell, Lady Dedlock found herself more conflicted than ever._

_She felt as though she’d been given a powerfully dangerous bit of information. If kept to herself, it would consume her every thought. If she expressed it, she could set things in motion that she would be unable to stop._

_The soft clearing of a voice behind her startled Lady Dedlock, causing her to sharply whir towards the cause of the noise. Her cheeks betrayed her as she caught sight of Rosa._

_“I didn’t mean to frighten you, my Lady.”_

_Lady Dedlock regained herself. “You didn’t.”_

_Rosa nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable. It had not gone unnoticed by the young woman that her mistress had been avoiding her. If Lady Dedlock hadn’t known better, she’d have assumed that Rosa was downright disappointed._

_“Is there anything I can do for you?” Rosa blinked hopefully. “Anything at all?”_

_“No,” Lady Dedlock responded, more brusque than she had intended. Rosa almost fully hid her flinch at the sharpness of her tone. As Rosa turned toward the door, Lady Dedlock was surprised to find herself calling out her name._

_“Is there something you need, my Lady?”_

_“I heard something very curious from Mrs. Rouncewell this afternoon,” Lady Dedlock began, hardly believing that she had the inclination to say the words. “She told me that she caught you in something like a trance.”_

_“Oh?” Rosa wore a mask of innocence, the sweetness of her features never betraying her truth._

_“On the stairwell.” Lady Dedlock cocked her head. “She said it was as if you were staring at my portrait.”_

_Color rose to Rosa’s cheeks and she stammered, looking anywhere but at her mistress. “I…”_

_“Does my portrait displease you, Rosa?” Lady Dedlock asked, taking a step closer, and then another. She felt herself grow warm as she drew nearer to the other woman and she held herself at arm’s length._

_“Not at all, my Lady,” Rosa admitted quietly, her eyes on the carpet. “Quite the opposite.”_

_Lady Dedlock felt her courage rise and realized, after all, that she was not a woman who could quell her curiosity for excitement. She tucked her fingers under Rosa’s chin and lifted her face up until beautiful blue eyes met with her own. “Why stare at a painting when the real thing is in your presence?”_

_Rosa licked her lips nervously, her face vibrantly red. “I…” She sighed, and her breath was hot on Lady Dedlock’s fingers. “It’s much safer to gaze upon a painting.”_

_Lady Dedlock dropped her fingers upon the maid’s admission of propriety and stepped back. Feeling as though she’d been stung at the implication that what they were doing was wrong, she prepared to leave, her heart beating painfully hard in her chest._

_Rosa’s hand enclosed around her wrist before she could get away. Lady Dedlock, torn between rules and burning eagerness, gazed blankly at the maid as if she had little power to extract her hand. She was caught, body and mind._

_“The intensity of my gaze might make my Lady uncomfortable,” Rosa admitted, squaring her shoulders in an attempt to give herself strength to continue, “and might no longer conceal feelings I’ve worked to keep hidden.”_

_Blood roared in her ears, her heart hammered ceaselessly, and her throat was suddenly dry. “F-feelings?”_

_Rosa’s thumb passed over the delicate flesh of her wrist. “Yes.”_

_Lady Dedlock found that she was shivering all over. “Feelings of what nature?”_

_“Feelings I could hardly control.” She bravely continued. “Feelings a maid should not have for her mistress.”_

_Lady Dedlock swayed a little in her place and Rosa’s hands came to her arms to steady her. They stood, their bodies pressed nearly flush together, locked in a gaze that neither was willing to break._

_“Rosa…” Lady Dedlock began, her head swarming with thoughts she could not cease. She wanted to kiss her, wanted to stroke her hair, wanted to send her away, wanted to strike her for being so enchanting. She did nothing but stare until the clock chimed and Rosa stepped back._

_“I have to help in the kitchen,” Rosa whispered softly, taking her arms slowly away from her mistress’s body. “I hope I have not upset you.”_

_Lady Dedlock nodded and watched dumbly as Rosa slipped from the room. She pressed a hand to her chest, hoping to catch her heart before it pounded straight through the cage of her body. Something was different—something had shifted in her. She settled herself into the chair she had braced herself on for support, staring at the carpet beneath her shoes._

_Was this love? Was this lust? It occurred to her that she knew very little about Rosa. She did not know how she took her tea, or what her hopes for the future were, or what she did in her idle time. She knew nothing more than what was appropriate for a mistress to know of her servant. Could her body be tricking her into believing she were in love for the sake of justifying her attraction?_

_She shook her head violently and felt a stray lock of hair fall upon her cheek. It did little good to question herself in this way when these feelings were so new and so strange. Perhaps she would do nothing about it. Perhaps these feelings would be better left lingering in the space between them, never to be touched._

_The thought occurred to her that these feelings, now spoken, would lick at her like flames. She knew now, having heard of this desire, that she would forever burn for Rosa._

_\---_

 

Lady Dedlock holds the door still, praying that Rosa will not try to push it further open. She looks over her shoulder at the source of the noise and breathes a sigh of relief to see that her husband has just rustled gently in his sleep.

 

Ever so slowly, Lady Dedlock pulls open the wardrobe door, leaving just enough space for the small body of the younger woman to pass through. She sticks a hand into the darkness and feels wet, grateful kisses pressed upon her knuckles. Impatiently Lady Dedlock grips her wrist and tugs lightly, silently ordering her maid to remove herself with great care.

 

Rosa eases a foot onto the floor and then the other, sliding herself along the wood paneling until she can shift her body through the crack. The girl is agile and flexible and rises to her feet, her hand gripping Lady Dedlock’s tightly while she carefully closes the door.

 

The sound of Sir Leicester’s snoring should fuel their haste in leaving the room but they stand together, joined at the hand, regarding each other in the darkness. Lady Dedlock’s lips part slightly as her eyes scan the mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips of her maid. The force of her love and her desire is so strong that she must close her eyes for a moment and collect herself.

 

Rosa squeezes her hand.

 

Lady Dedlock nods towards the door that adjoins a small parlor and they walk at a slow pace, easing each foot cautiously in front of the other. Rosa’s hand curls around the handle of the door and opens it, quickly stowing inside the darker room.

 

Lady Dedlock pauses upon the threshold of the room in which her lover stands. She is frozen in place, torn between letting Rosa sneak away to safety and keeping her close for a while longer. Leicester lets out a loud snore and the decision is made.

 

She walks into the parlor.

 

\---

 

_It seemed that the sun had broken through the clouds for the first time in months. Lady Dedlock sat upon her window seat, a forgotten book in her hand, as she strained toward the sunlight. Through the glass, despite the chill in autumn air, it warmed her face._

_She wished that the warmth would seep down into the core of herself, would warm the ice that had formed over her heart in the past weeks since Rosa’s confession. She found herself torn between her own wants and the wants of those around her._

_Seated behind her, Sir Leicester regarded a stack of letters with his spectacles, occasionally issuing a gruff of disapproval or a shocked laugh. He would read fragments to her and she would issue the appropriate replies, though she had little recollection of the words he spoke. He could have told her that London burned to the ground and she would hardly have reacted._

_She could think only of Rosa._

_“Can you believe this!” Leicester exclaimed, looking up at his wife with outraged eyes._

_It took several moments for her to register that her attention was required and she looked at him. “What is that?”_

_“That brute Boythorn wants to erect a fence dividing our properties!”_

_“Would that be so awful?”_

_“He wants to put that eyesore on_ our _land!” Leicester heaved himself to his feet, the letter clutched tightly in his fist. “Of all the…” He shook his head, grumbling to himself as his insults trailed off his tongue. “Never fear, my love. I shall handle this.”_

_Lady Dedlock gave a sweet smile. “Of course you will.”_

_“I’ll be in my study,” he said, coming to her to kiss her cheek. In the corner of the room, the door opened and Rosa stepped in, watching motionless as his lips pressed chastely to his wife’s cheek. “Ah, Rosa, do keep my wife company while I see to some business. I fear she’s lonely.”_

_Lady Dedlock started at his words, however true._

_“I will take excellent care of my mistress,” Rosa said simply, smiling sweetly at her master._

_Lady Dedlock shuddered at the words and pressed her hand to her throat. She nodded to her husband as he took his leave and caught her breath when Rosa sat beside her on the window seat._

_“Is my Lady lonely?” she asked, taking the book from her hands._

_Lady Dedlock was silent for a moment and, to her own surprise, nodded her head. “And you, Rosa? Are you lonely?”_

_“At times,” Rosa replied, following her mistress’s gaze and looking upon the grounds of the estate. “Sometimes I find myself…very happy.”_

_“What times are those?”_

_“When I am in pleasant company.”_

_Lady Dedlock felt something tighten in her abdomen, coiling taut and tense as though she might snap at any moment. She stared hard at the sun brightening the hues of the remaining flowers in the garden. “When is that?” she questioned breathlessly._

_“Every day, my Lady. And I am lonely every night.”_

_The shudder that coursed down Lady Dedlock’s spine settled hard between her legs. She closed her eyes, hoping to will it away, hoping to open her eyes to a world in which she sat alone upon her seat._

_“I fear I have done wrong by you, Rosa,” she pressed on, her voice shaking and uncertain. “You would not be lonely if I, that is to say we, had not hindered your possibility of marriage.” Though her eyes focused on the faraway form of a white birdbath, she could see in the corner of her eye that Rosa had edged nearer to her._

_“I would still know loneliness if you had allowed me to marry.”_

_“A woman of your status may not have many opportunities for marriage. That may have been your only chance. You may become an old maid, Rosa.”_

_“This is true, though what choice had I?”_

_Lady Dedlock turned her head, taking in the intense gaze of the younger woman. Had she always been sitting so close? She swallowed. “And if you’d been given the choice?”_

_“I would have stayed.”_

_Lady Dedlock exhaled and closed her eyes once more. “Rosa…”_

_“I am happiest when I am with you,” Rosa whispered, her breath warm on Lady Dedlock’s cheek._

_And then she felt it, the warm imprint of Rosa’s lips upon the curve of her cheekbone. Lady Dedlock gasped and gripped hard at the edge of the window seat, her body rigid as Rosa’s lips pressed firmly against her. She could not open her eyes even when Rosa pulled away, and felt that she would never recover when the velvety soft mouth brushed against her own lips._

_The kiss was impossibly gentle, as if Rosa feared that Lady Dedlock would break upon contact. It lasted far too long and ended far too quickly. When Rosa stood up, Lady Dedlock’s eyes snapped open. She knew within the very depths of her that it was wrong, that what Rosa had done should be punished, but Lady Dedlock felt nothing that she was supposed to feel. Her body defied the pessimistic logic that had long been instilled within her._

_It was as if Rosa knew she’d done wrong. With a soft wail of embarrassed passion she turned on her heel and ran towards the door. Before her hand could reach the handle, Lady Dedlock grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip and tugged her around, pulling her against her body, staring at the relieved and hopeful features of Rosa’s face before she kissed her._

_This was a proper kiss, all heat and passion and intensity. Lady Dedlock’s head spun. She could smell the impossibly sweet scent of Rosa’s perfume, could feel the heat emanating from her body, and could feel the love that passed through Rosa’s lips. She let go of Rosa’s arm and slipped her hands around her waist, pulling her ever closer. Her hands splayed across Rosa’s back, hating the fabric of her dress that separated her from the soft flesh beneath._

_Rosa whimpered quietly against Lady Dedlock’s mouth. The very sound of it traveled straight through her body and burned between her thighs. She’d never wanted anyone with such fierce need and the force of it shocked her. Her mouth slackened in wordless supplication as Rosa’s tongue brushed tentatively against it._

_The kiss should have ended. It should never have begun, but Lady Dedlock allowed Rosa entrance into her mouth and reveled in the feel of the girl’s sharp, witty tongue against her own. The stroking of Rosa’s tongue was insistent but not demanding, though if it had been Lady Dedlock would have given her anything. She stroked back, losing herself completely._

_Rosa’s hands came to Lady Dedlock’s face, cupping her cheeks as she slanted her mouth to take her mistress’s at a new angle. She sucked at Lady Dedlock’s lip, her teeth nipping gently, as her fingers teased along the column of her throat. Lady Dedlock moaned._

_Upon hearing the foreign sound, both women’s eyes snapped open, each registering equal parts excitement and concern. Lady Dedlock had never uttered such a noise—would it be recognizable for what it was if it had been overheard?_

_Without Rosa’s lips assailing her own, Lady Dedlock felt herself return to her body. She panted and held Rosa close, not willing to let her go. Rosa’s breath was quick against her cheek and as they pressed their faces together, she could feel Rosa’s smile._

_Rosa kissed her ear, frighteningly close to that particularly dangerous spot, and Lady Dedlock jumped. She gripped Rosa’s face in her hands and stared at her kiss-swollen lips and hungry eyes. She felt as though the gaze would consume her completely._

_“This must never happen again,” Lady Dedlock warned, pressing her lips against Rosa’s forehead and cheeks and mouth. She scattered kisses about the girl’s face and could feel her trembling in her arms. “Never again,” she repeated, taking Rosa’s mouth once more with fervent need._

_Even as the words hung in the air around them, Lady Dedlock knew they were hollow._

_\---_

Lady Dedlock quietly pulls the door shut, inhaling a sharp breath as Rosa presses her body against her back and slides her hands along her stomach. Her body tingles pleasantly under the touch and as Rosa’s nose nudges aside the curtain of dark reddish-brown hair and kisses her neck, Lady Dedlock jolts.

 

“We can’t,” she hisses, stepping out of Rosa’s grasp. She knows without having to look at the young woman’s face that she is hurt and disappointed, and Lady Dedlock cannot hide the remorse from her own features. She casts her eyes upon her and under the eerie blue light of the moon that is strewn in from the window, Lady Dedlock can make out the hardened peaks of Rosa’s breasts straining against the white shift of her nightgown. She licks her lips involuntarily.

 

“Please don’t make me leave you,” Rosa pleads, closing the distance between them. She takes Lady Dedlock’s hand in her own and clutches it tightly.

 

“You cannot stay…I won’t have you putting yourself in a compromising situation.” She threads her fingers through Rosa’s long hair. “Oh how I wish I could keep you here.”

 

“Then do.” Rosa nuzzles her nose against Lady Dedlock’s cheek, pressing gentle kisses along the line of her jaw. “We can hold each other until dawn.”

 

Lady Dedlock tilts her head and allows her lover access, permitting herself to be swayed by Rosa’s words. “We mustn’t.”

 

Rosa does not respond. Instead, she fastens her lips around her mistress’s earlobe and tugs. Lady Dedlock whimpers quietly and at the sound she pushes Rosa away. “It’s too dangerous.”

 

“I can’t go back to my room. If Mrs. Rouncewell wakes she’ll ask where I’ve been. _She’ll smell it on me.”_

 

“Has she noticed you missing in the night?”

 

“Once she awoke early…I told her I had fallen asleep in the library with a book. Another time I told her I couldn’t sleep and had gone for a walk.”

 

Lady Dedlock nods, already considering the possibility of Mrs. Rouncewell’s suspicion. The woman has never alluded to specifically inappropriate behavior, but Lady Dedlock knows that she notices everything and is unfailingly loyal to her master. It would not be difficult to put the pieces together. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

 

“I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want…” She stares guilty at her hands.

 

“This to end?”

 

Rosa nods.

 

“Oh my love,” Lady Dedlock says, folding Rosa in her arms. “I want nothing more than for this to continue forever, but we must be careful. It is essential that we do not arouse suspicion.”

 

Rosa nods once more, her arms curling around Lady Dedlock’s waist. Her hands move and shift against her, gliding up her back and down over the curves of her backside.

 

“ _Rosa_ …” Lady Dedlock says with a grin. “I will meet my undoing at your hands, you devil child.”

 

Rosa giggles and she squeezes her mistress’s backside, pressing the front of their bodies together. “Tell me to leave and I will.”

 

Lady Dedlock breathlessly takes in the sight of Rosa’s flushed cheeks, of the low dip in her nightgown, of the freckle just above her left breast. “Leave,” she whispers unconvincingly as Rosa’s lips fasten to the curve of her throat. “Oh…you…” Rosa’s tongue trails up her neck. “You must wash the scent of me off your body and… _oh_ …” Rosa gently suckles at the flesh. “A-and…if she wakes…you will tell her…mmm…yes…that you…” Rosa strokes her tongue against the spot behind her ear and Lady Dedlock bites her lip to suppress a wail of pleasure. She takes Rosa’s face firmly in her hands and pulls her away from her neck. “You will tell her you were unwell and that you were in the kitchen drinking tea.”

 

Rosa nods obediently.

 

Lady Dedlock kisses her hard, her tongue roving into the younger woman’s mouth. She devours her with a hunger she has never known, clutching at fistfuls of yellow hair. When she pulls away, they are both breathless.

 

“I cannot think with you so near,” Lady Dedlock implores, pressing Rosa back until her calves meet the front of a chaise. She pushes Rosa into a sitting position, straddles her, and takes her mouth again.

 

\---

 

_As she removed the pins from her hair and allowed her hair to fall in a cascade down her back, Lady Dedlock looked intently at her reflection. Color had risen high in her cheeks. She looked healthy. She looked happy._

_She noticed too that the severity of her features had slackened over the past fortnight; she wondered if someone had replaced her looking glass with a portrait of her younger self._

_The transformation could be attributed only to Rosa._

_It had been a near impossible task for Lady Dedlock to ignore her desire for Rosa. For three days following their heated embrace she ardently avoided her, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on a book that she never absorbed or on needlework that she clumsily ruined. She did not allow herself to look at or speak to her maid, and for three days she was miserable._

_On the fourth day, they passed each other in a dark corridor in the upper left wing of the house. Their shoulders brushed. Before Lady Dedlock could stop herself, she had Rosa pressed against the wall as she rained urgent, helpless kisses down upon her face. She had nearly taken her there, had wanted to slip her hand beneath Rosa’s dress, but the sound of a distant voice halted their ministrations._

_The incident had alerted them both to the necessity of taking greater care, though they could not quell the yearning that had risen between them. Lady Dedlock was thankful for Rosa’s discretion; not once did she cast her mistress a lingering stare in the company of anyone else or behave in a way that was unseemly. For Lady Dedlock’s part, she had much less resolve. It had been common knowledge that Lady Dedlock favored Rosa far more than any of the other servants in her employ, and she desperately hoped that her attentiveness was not becoming increasingly obvious. If Rosa was in the room, Lady Dedlock could concentrate on nothing else. Nothing else existed._

_They walked around the grounds frequently, often stowing into the depths of woods and shrubbery where Lady Dedlock could be pressed against a tree and kissed until she forgot herself. There, in the chilly cover of a Lincolnshire autumn, they crouched amongst the grasses and dying wildflowers and remained as close as they dared until the cruelty of life called them back to their respective places._

_Lady Dedlock hated those moments when they walked towards Chesney Wold. She often kept Rosa back, lingering as she pulled leaves from her flaxen hair and bestowed kisses upon her as if she’d never have another chance. In the overgrowth, with only the songbirds to overhear, Lady Dedlock whispered her love and her unconsummated yearning._

_What she loved most, far more than the intimate caresses, were the talks they shared. She recalled a fond afternoon where they lay in the grass like peasant children, Rosa’s head upon her stomach as she spoke of her childhood, of her family, of her secrets. It was in these moments when Lady Dedlock felt like a woman of flesh and blood and not a ghost. She knew her behavior was careless, that she was acting like an urchin, but for once she cared little for what propriety was expected._

_Lady Dedlock had never been happier._

_Lady Dedlock had never been more miserable._

_When she had been sitting in the presence of her husband at dinner, she burned with guilt under his loving gaze. When he covered her hand with his own, or pressed his lips to her cheek, she felt as though her indiscretions screamed loudly from every pore in her body. How could he not smell it upon her? See it in her eyes? Hear it in the undertone of her voice?_

_Leicester Dedlock did not know love in the way that his wife knew love. His passion for her had developed into a constant assuredness of a comfortable companionship. He simply could not recognize the light that now shone in his wife’s eyes._

_She recognized it now as she looked upon herself in the mirror. Her eyes had always been dull and dark and now they danced and shimmered. She hardly recognized herself._

_Lady Dedlock propped her elbows on her dressing table, laced her fingers, and rested her head upon them. She sighed, wondering how futile it would be to attempt sleep when every corner of her body ached for something that she was losing the resolve to deny._

_She had yearned for very little in her life. She had longed for James Hawden’s love and had it, for however brief a time. She had ached for the life of the daughter she believed to be dead. She wanted Rosa to belong to her, body and soul._

_It was easy to think little of the life that had taken away the few things she had ever wanted. She lived her life by replacing her emotional desires with superficial wants, filling the voids with jewels and clothes and extravagance that meant very little to her._

_Lady Dedlock had lived four decades in a state of deep desolation. There was nothing that would replace Rosa, and she was losing the will to try._

_There was a faint tap at her door, so quiet that Lady Dedlock thought she imagined the sound. When it was repeated, she stood and bid her visitor entrance. She watched in the looking glass as Rosa let herself into her room, carefully balancing a tray of tea and a candle._

_“Rosa?” Lady Dedlock asked, her pulse quickening. It was late, far later than one would call for tea._

_“I thought you might be thirsty,” Rosa said, standing at the door as if she regretted coming at all._

_“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Lady Dedlock asked, watching as Rosa set the tray onto a small table. Rather than take up a chair, Rosa knelt upon the floor and set about pouring a cup of steaming tea into one of two porcelain cups. She observed Rosa’s shaking hand and the loose tendrils of hair that had fallen free of her plait. She looked enchantingly beautiful, effervescently lovely in the dim candlelight. Lady Dedlock felt her knees weaken._

_“I couldn’t sleep, my Lady,” Rosa confessed, blushing under her mistress’s gaze._

_“Nor could I.” Lady Dedlock seated herself in the chair beside where Rosa knelt, trying not to focus on the closeness of the young woman’s body. She’d touched her intimately above her dress, had learned the curves of her body as defined by her typical day attire, but the loose, pale fabric of her nightgown made her fingers tingle with desire. It was only a sparse, thin bit of cloth that covered Rosa’s naked form and she sat close enough to reach out and touch._

_Rosa handed Lady Dedlock a cup, careful not to meet her eyes, and poured one for herself. She set down the kettle and handled her cup watchfully, blowing upon the steam that rose above the surface of the liquid. Lady Dedlock envied that tea for receiving Rosa’s gentle breath and whispered, “How I want you, Rosa…”_

_So surprised was Rosa to hear her mistress’s admission that she started, her hand jerking so roughly that the tea cascaded over the back of her hand. She hissed in pain and quickly set down her cup._

_Lady Dedlock set aside her own cup and snatched at Rosa’s hand, wiping the scalded, wet skin with the scalloped sleeve of her own nightgown. “Are you all right?”_

_Rosa nodded, her eyes fixed upon Lady Dedlock’s pale fingers as they inspected the pink flesh of her hand. Her hard swallow did not go unnoticed._

_Lady Dedlock leaned forward, pressing her lips to the burn. “Is that better?” she asked, her lips feathering soft kisses across the entire back of her hand._

_“Oh…yes, it is…” Rosa answered breathlessly. Her hand trembled._

_Lady Dedlock turned Rosa’s hand and kissed the center of her palm, her tongue darting out to trace the familiar lines that crisscrossed over her skin. Her skin was warm and smelled of soap and lavender. She closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent as she began to kiss the tip of each finger. Rosa gave out a shuddering gasp as Lady Dedlock’s mouth sucked in the tip of her index finger, sucking gently on the digit._

_“_ Oh…” _Rosa uttered, leaning closer into the older woman. “Please…”_

_Lady Dedlock moved to Rosa’s middle finger, giving it the same attention with her roving, curious tongue. She felt motivated by some outside force, as if she could not possibly be so careless to play with danger. Together they stood on the precipice of sin, each taking turns holding the other from falling off the edge. It was a precarious dance and they were each losing their footing._

_It was the middle of the night. Sir Leicester was only a few doors away. Every unspoken rule in her society screamed against what they were doing._

_Lady Dedlock gazed into Rosa’s eyes and weighed the options that lay at her feet. She could send Rosa away, deny her desire and her happiness, and live with the guilt of the fantasies that consumed her mind. She could also allow Rosa to stay, spend a beautiful night with her, and live with the guilt of her actions._

_Either way, Lady Dedlock had broken her vows to Sir Leicester. Either way, she was in love with Rosa. Only one road was paved with happiness amongst the guilt and sin and ruin. It was, to be sure, the most perilous road to choose._

_In Lady Dedlock’s mind, there simply was no choice to be made. She could deny herself no longer. “Rosa,” she said, pressing the girl’s hand to her cheek. “If I asked you to stay with me tonight…”_

_Rosa exhaled slowly, deliberately, graciously. “I would.”_

_“You would willingly sacrifice your purity and be my partner in sin?”_

_Rosa scooted closer to her mistress, resting her hands on Lady Dedlock’s knees. “My heart has made its choice.”_

_It seemed odd to her that the person she had chosen would also choose her in return, that the temptation she offered was worth the risk. Had Lady Dedlock ever surmised that her self worth would be regarded so greatly by another human being?_

_Together they fell._

_Rosa’s fingers tangled in Lady Dedlock’s thick dark hair, her forehead coming to rest against the other woman’s. “You have my consent. You have my heart. Please…” she whispered, fluttering desperate kisses over Lady Dedlock’s face in a haphazard pattern, “have the rest of me.”_

_Lady Dedlock had never been one to refuse a gift. Her heart thudded painfully hard in her chest and she could almost hear Rosa’s beating in time. She had dreamed of this moment for many nights, had woken damp with sweat and arousal, had lived with the dull ache between her thighs. That ache grew into a demanding throb and now Lady Dedlock knew not what to do._

_For all of Rosa’s simple manners, subdued passions, and steadfast complicity, she could sense her mistress’s hesitation and sought to take the lead. Rosa, virginal and ethereal, initiated their decent into sin. She stood, drawing Lady Dedlock to her feet as well. They stood together, their bodies close but not touching save for Rosa’s hands on the back of her neck and Rosa’s mouth on the curve of her jaw._

_“I would like to take you to bed,” Rosa mumbled against her flesh. Lady Dedlock’s knees buckled._

_Rosa helpfully curled her arms around her mistress’s waist, pulling her in close for support as she stepped easily back in the direction of the large bed. Lady Dedlock knew it loomed in the distance but stared only into Rosa’s eyes, so overcome by desire and contentedness that she could do little more than cooperate with Rosa’s silent orders. It felt so strange to be out of control, to have given away her power, that Lady Dedlock was rushed by a sense of feeling stripped of her identity. She knew no existence but that of Lady Dedlock’s; she desperately clung to what remained of the woman she knew._

_Rosa uttered a gasp of surprise when Lady Dedlock whirred them around, gripping the maid’s hips and driving them together towards the bed. Rosa’s backside hit the mattress and, when she could be moved no further, Lady Dedlock’s body came into full contact with her._

_It was an altogether new sensation for them both. Owing to the lack of heavy dresses and undergarments, they were as close as they had ever been. Rosa’s eyelids fluttered as Lady Dedlock wedged a knee in between her legs. This close, with the barest scrap of material between them, Lady Dedlock could feel Rosa’s scorching heat against her thigh._

_“You will be mine,” Lady Dedlock promised, gliding her hands along Rosa’s sides and arms, shoulders and neck, belly and breasts. They both watched intently as Lady Dedlock’s delicate hands cupped Rosa’s breasts through the shift. Each woman’s breath quickened as Lady Dedlock’s fingers drew tantalizing circles around the hardened peaks of her nipples and, when she dared flicked her thumbs directly over them, Rosa moaned._

_“I am yours,” Rosa gulped. “Please take me.”_

_Lady Dedlock covered Rosa’s mouth in a greedy kiss, reflecting the intensity of her longing with each sweep of her tongue and nip of her teeth. Rosa responded in kind, her hands once more coming to Lady Dedlock’s hair. She twisted the silken tendrils around her fingers, pulling ever-so-gently. The tug upon her scalp only heightened the pleasure that the older woman felt._

_With one quick heave, Lady Dedlock pushed Rosa until she was sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs parted enough for Lady Dedlock to step between and claim her mouth once more. At this angle, with the freedom to be in this most coveted position, Lady Dedlock was allowed to rub her abdomen against Rosa’s most intimate spot. Rosa cried out and involuntarily shifted her hips hard against her._

_Lady Dedlock’s hands skimmed the length of Rosa’s legs, which seemed endless now that they were no longer hidden by her pale blue dress. She kneaded her fingers into Rosa’s thighs, her hands daring to come only teasingly close to the spot she equally craved and feared. Rosa’s leg hooked around her hip, pinning their bodies close together._

_Rosa pulled away from Lady Dedlock’s kiss, drawing in ragged breaths as she began kissing along the line of the older woman’s jaw. She curled her tongue against Lady Dedlock’s earlobe before sucking it into her mouth. Lady Dedlock hummed her pleasure and released a loud, unbridled moan when Rosa’s lips located the sensitive flesh behind her ear. Thrilled by her mistress’s response, Rosa ardently loved the spot, laving her tongue in delicious sweeps before she fastened her lips and gently sucked._

_Lady Dedlock cried out again, tilting her head to give her maid better access. She grabbed at Rosa’s hips, sinking in her fingers. She was shocked to discover that her passion rose, climbing ever higher as Rosa’s insistent mouth pleasured her throat. She felt fueled by fire, by pure blinding white heat, and fancied whether she’d survive this experience._

_Something had locked taut within the pit of her belly. She felt as though something would break, that she would lose herself so soon into the encounter. She grappled for strength to pull herself away from Rosa’s mouth and pushed the younger woman down upon the bed, sighing to see her splayed out so wantonly before her. She climbed onto the bed, dropping kisses over Rosa’s still-clothed belly as she came to lie beside her._

_Each woman took a pause as they regarded the other, curiously taking in the newness of the intimacy they now shared. There would be no turning back, Lady Dedlock knew. Every modest and concerned voice in her head told her to turn away, to leave Rosa untarnished. She had little resolve to listen to these voices anymore and therefore turned her back on them, sinking low to kiss Rosa’s throat as her fingers pulled at the ribbon that laced the top of her gown. When it came loose in her hands she cast it aside and pushed aside the fabric that now afforded Lady Dedlock more flesh than she’d ever seen of another woman. She trailed her tongue along Rosa’s collarbone, dipped her tongue into the hollow of Rosa’s throat, and kissed down between the valley of Rosa’s breasts, stopping when the fabric would part no further._

_Rosa was trembling beneath her, her need so apparent and so strong that the younger woman could hardly keep her eyes open. She whispered unintelligible pleas and Lady Dedlock felt she’d been cruel enough. She’d held her at arm’s length for weeks. It was time._

_Sitting up, Lady Dedlock reached for the hem of her gown with a shaking hand, revealing long, lithe legs as she drew it higher. She blushed at the sight of Rosa’s drawers and she swallowed around the dry lump that had formed in her throat. When Lady Dedlock could move the garment no higher, Rosa helpfully shifted her body. Lady Dedlock removed the gown completely and lost her breath as she took in the sight of her nearly naked maid. Her chest, though flushed with the rosy hue of arousal, was milky pale. Lady Dedlock eyed the full mounds and curves of Rosa’s supple breasts, her face burning as she looked upon nipples of the palest pink, taut and crinkled and proud. Above her left breast was a small freckle and it was to this that Lady Dedlock lowered her lips first._

_Rosa cried out when her mistress’s lips touched the uncovered parts of her body. The sound of it coursed straight through Lady Dedlock’s own body, infusing her with an urge to bring it out again. She kissed Rosa’s breast, marveling at the satiny smoothness of her skin. She nuzzled her cheek against it before fastening her mouth over one hardened pink peak._

_Rosa clamped a hand over her mouth as she wailed at the contact, her back arching up against her mistress’s mouth. Lady Dedlock thought to admire Rosa’s forethought but focused instead on stroking the bud with her tongue. She sucked, gently at first, and then harder when she realized how her lover responded. Her hand came to the untouched breast, devoting the same attention. She plucked and tweaked and twisted and pulled, drowning in the sounds that were emitted from Rosa’s throat and the feel of her hair as it was tugged within Rosa’s fingers._

_Lady Dedlock switched breasts and drew the nipple between her teeth, watching Rosa’s face carefully as she gently clamped down. Rosa’s eyes were closed and her head tilted back and her teeth sank hard into the plump flesh of her lower lip to restrict her moans of delight. At once Lady Dedlock wished that the giant manor were empty so that the younger woman could be free to shout and scream as she pleased. Not wanting to acknowledge the world that existed outside of her bed chamber, Lady Dedlock set to kissing and teasing the breast while her hand began to roam over Rosa’s belly._

_She was soft, so impossibly smooth. Her slow caresses turned more insistent as she neared the fabric of Rosa’s drawers and, ever so quietly, the maid begged for Lady Dedlock’s mercy._

_“I…oh please…I can’t…I need…”_

_“What is it you need, Rosa?” Lady Dedlock asked around a puckered nipple._

_“I need you to,” she paused to swallow hard, “touch me.”_

_“I am touching you,” Lady Dedlock teased, punctuating her sentence by placing a wet kiss on the side of her breast. “Where would you like me to touch you?”_

_Rosa’s lips moved but no sound was emitted. Instead, the girl closed her fingers around Lady Dedlock’s wrist and guided her hand beneath her drawers. “Yes…” she breathed, dropping her mistress’s hand in order to clutch at the bed sheets._

_Lady Dedlock’s head spun quickly as her fingertips teased gently amongst a patch of damp curls. The evidence of Rosa’s need was reason enough for Lady Dedlock to set aside her apprehension. She’d never touched herself with such intimacy before; she’d never felt that she deserved to indulge in the pleasures of her body. She had little knowledge in pleasing another woman but felt she could do no wrong when Rosa hissed as her hand cupped her sex._

_Rosa was all scorching heat and abundant wetness. Lady Dedlock kept her hand still, reveling in the fit of Rosa’s sex against her palm. It was so exquisitely different than with a man, so much more enticing. She felt as though she herself was being touched in this intimate way._

_Rosa lifted her hips into Lady Dedlock’s hand, crying out when she gained the pressure she so desired. Lady Dedlock began to carefully move her fingers, discovering the length of Rosa’s slit. She slipped inside the velvet wetness, tentatively feeling through unfamiliar folds. She passed over a stiff nub at the very apex of her mound and, as her fingertips grazed it, Rosa let out a surprised howl._

_She slapped a hand over her mouth and stared frightfully at her mistress. “I’m sorry….I couldn’t…I…”_

_“Hush, my girl,” Lady Dedlock beamed, feathering her mouth over Rosa’s lips. She propped herself on her side and supported her head on her hand, gazing bemusedly at her young lover. Rosa’s hair was cast about her like a golden ring, her body radiantly flushed. “You are so very beautiful,” Lady Dedlock admitted, teasing her fingers once more over the little nub. This time, she caught Rosa’s moan with her mouth. She found she liked the taste of it._

_She continued to explore the entirety of Rosa’s intimacy, circling what she believed to be Rosa’s unbroken entrance. The area was sensitive, as proven when Rosa’s hips jerked against her hand. No spot, however, was as sensitive as the little bundle of nerves that adorned the top of her sex like a crown._

_“My love,” Lady Dedlock sighed, teasing her fingers around this spot, delighting in the way Rosa moved her body in a matching rhythm. “You are mine.”_

_“Yes,” Rosa agreed, threading a weak arm around her mistress’s neck to pull her into a deep kiss. “Yours.”_

_Lady Dedlock quickened the pace of her fingers, alternating the pressure and direction. Rosa’s head dropped to the mattress; it seemed she was too ensconced in her bliss to do little more than spread her legs wider and draw up her knees and dig her heels into the bed. Lady Dedlock absorbed it all, unblinking as she watched her lover flex and undulate under her touch. Rosa’s hands clutched at handfuls of blanket, twisting it within her hands as she bucked up to dip her face into the crook of her mistress’s neck. Without warning, Rosa broke, convulsing hard and quick as her climax wracked through her petite frame. Lady Dedlock continued the stroking of her fingers, her mouth agape as she felt the quick pulses beneath her hand. Rosa muffled her cries and shouts in Lady Dedlock’s shoulder until she had given everything she had. When she was spent, she slumped back against the bed in an exhausted heap._

_Lady Dedlock allowed Rosa a few moments to collect herself. She watched, bemused, as the girl blinked at the ceiling and marveled at the change in her body. While she panted for breath and licked her lips, Lady Dedlock rid the girl of her drawers so that she could see every inch of the body that now belonged wholly to her. She memorized the thatch of blonde curls betwixt her thighs and the freckles that were scattered about her body. She traced a sticky, wet pattern on Rosa’s abdomen while she connected the freckles and smiled when Rosa let out a ticklish laugh._

_“I had no idea I could feel that way,” Rosa said in amazement, propping herself up on her elbows. She kissed Lady Dedlock’s cheek and brushed away a strand of hair from her brow. “I wonder if I can make you feel the same way.”_

_Lady Dedlock flushed at the suggestion and remained still, waiting to see just how bold her Rosa could be. She was not disappointed. Rosa wasted little time in gathering her mistress’s nightgown in her hands and working it over her body, not stopping until she had thrown it, along with her drawers, to the floor. She felt her flesh become speckled with goosepimples under Rosa’s ardent gaze._

_“Do I please you?” Lady Dedlock asked._

_Rosa’s eyes swept over the lines of her body. She nodded mutely. For several moment she did not touch her; she simply looked her fill, as if committing every curve and every freckle and every line to memory. Then, disregarding her docile demeanor, Rosa pushed Lady Dedlock onto her back and straddled her._

_Lady Dedlock lost her breath as soon as the younger woman settled over her stomach. Perhaps it was the hot moisture that pressed against her belly. Perhaps it was the look of hunger in Rosa’s eyes. Perhaps it was the fact that Lady Dedlock had never been in a position of submission before. She felt entirely powerless, entirely at the mercy of someone else. It bothered her for reasons she could not explain. She wriggled beneath Rosa, attempting to extract herself, but Rosa pinned her shoulders down to the bed._

_“Now_ you _are_ mine, _Honoria_. _”_

_Lady Dedlock blinked. The use of her given name, so unfamiliar to her, shocked her, but she found herself more perplexed by the rest of Rosa’s declaration. She understood possession; it had been engrained in her mind since she took up this station in her life. It was in her nature to own things, and Rosa was no different. Rosa belonged to her much in the way a pet or a child or a husband belonged to her. She had never been owned, not even by Sir Leicester._

_“I do believe it is the other way around,” Lady Dedlock whispered, attempting to shrug off Rosa’s grasp._

_Rosa shook her head and long strands of pale yellow hair fell over her shoulders. “No. My heart is yours because I love you. Because I chose to give it to you. You don’t own me.”_

_Lady Dedlock opened her mouth to cast her opinion of dissent but her words died upon her tongue. Did she_ want _Rosa to be a possession, just another jewel that she kept for its beauty and charm? It occurred to her that it was Rosa’s untamed spirit that had attracted her attentions, not just her beauty. Her obedience was required in her job posting and now she came to see that this Rosa, the one she had taken in love, was a woman she did not altogether know. This was the Rosa that she did not own._

_Lady Dedlock did not want to own her. When her services as maid were no longer required, Lady Dedlock wanted Rosa to stay for no reason but love._

_“And my heart is yours,” Lady Dedlock assented, relaxing her tense body._

_Rosa let out a sigh of relief and smiled, the worry washing clear off her face. Power was not something to which she was accustomed and she hastily gave it up as soon as she realized it was no longer necessary. She loosened her grip on Lady Dedlock’s shoulders and traced her fingers across Lady Dedlock’s mouth, smoothing away the worried lines that framed her oft pursed lips. She traced the mole above her lip, whispering how much she loved it, and lowered herself to claim her Lady’s mouth._

_They kissed for some time, relishing the feel of their naked bodies coalescing together as if they were one singular person, not knowing where one ended and the other began. Lady Dedlock traced the ridges of Rosa’s spine and the curves of her backside, drawing her as close as she was able. She prayed for patience in Rosa’s languorous exploration of her body, hoping that the throb between her legs would lessen. It did not and a quiet groan alerted Rosa to the intensity of her need._

_Rosa began to kiss her way down Lady Dedlock’s body, worshipping her in the way she had been worshipped. The maid shifted between Lady Dedlock’s legs, lavishing each breast with kisses. Lady Dedlock wanted to lie back and close her eyes and revel in the surges of pleasure that shook her body but she found she could not look away. Her body had never been loved in such a way; she could not close her eyes to the sight of Rosa’s perfect rosebud mouth enclosing around one of her nipples._

_She smiled and bit her lip as the curtain of Rosa’s long hair tickled her belly, and Rosa heightened the sensation by trailing the tips of her fingers across the expanse of her abdomen. Lady Dedlock laughed for the first time in what felt like years and it surprised her how strange her face felt as it tugged into the unfamiliar shape of a wide smile. It felt like happiness._

_“You are cruel,” Lady Dedlock said, her hand covering Rosa’s on her stomach to stop the ticklish sensations._

_“I assure you, I am not.” Rosa kissed her knuckles before placing her mistress’s hand upon her own breast. “I will be very good to you.”_

_Lady Dedlock sighed as Rosa resumed kissing her belly. “You already are.”_

_“I will be better,” Rosa promised. She began to trail her kisses lower, placing one upon the triangular patch of dark curls._

_“Rosa!” Lady Dedlock gasped when she realized Rosa’s intent. “What are you—“_

_“Shh,” Rosa sounded, easing apart Lady Dedlock’s thighs. “Trust me.”_

_“How do you know of—“ Lady Dedlock’s voice trailed off as Rosa’s wicked smile filled her vision._

_“I was not raised in sheltered privilege as you were.” Rosa blew her breath across Lady Dedlock’s sex, causing the older woman to shiver violently. “I grew up in a village.” She swiped her tongue along the length of her Lady’s wet folds, eliciting a low groan. “I’m very, very good at listening.”_

_Lady Dedlock heard nothing else; she’d been shocked to discover the depravity of Rosa’s knowledge, to know that a girl as pure as her Rosa could possibly know of such practices, but she found that her judgment was futile upon feeling the first lick of the girl’s tongue. Rosa, whose words were so sweet and soft and docile, worked her mouth like a woman of the night, stroking her tongue against every inch of her mound._

_She found the sight of Rosa licking her sex to be too overwhelming. Upon catching the sight of Rosa’s tongue lapping at her like a cat at a bowl of milk, she dropped her head back against the bed and closed her eyes, allowing her surprise to melt away and be replaced with intense pleasure. She had no idea one could be loved in such a way—she’d heard tales, of course, but had never given them much thought. Her preconceptions had been that this act was dirty and perverse and wicked; while those might be true, this act was also incredibly satisfying._

_Lady Dedlock had no doubt as to Rosa’s virtue, but she was surprised nevertheless to discover at how skilled she was at working her tongue against the bud at the apex of her thighs. Rosa then began to suck and Lady Dedlock issued a shout so loud they both paused and listened to the stillness of the night around them. Rosa raised an eyebrow and Lady Dedlock drew her hand over her mouth to stifle the cries she could not control. She’d never felt that way, had no idea her body was capable of such bliss._

_Her body began to tense, every inch drawing taut and strained. Her breathing became shallow. Her legs began to quiver. Before Lady Dedlock could worry about her body’s physical reaction to Rosa’s ministrations, everything broke. She came with a shriek, her entire body convulsing in waves that sucked every ounce of energy out of her being. Her pleasure surged throughout every limb, every finger, every follicle of hair. She felt as though the world, which she’d seen only in black and white, had exploded in color._

_It was some time before Lady Dedlock came back to herself. She had covered her face with her hands, effectively shutting out the changed world for a brief moment. When her breath had returned and her heart slowed to a normal cadence, she lowered her hands and looked at the sweet face of her lover lying beside her._

_Rosa blushed shyly and hid her face in Lady Dedlock’s shoulder. The older woman shifted her body and came to lie on her side before tucking her fingers under Rosa’s chin and tilting her face into view._

_“Do you regret what we have done?” Lady Dedlock asked, passing her thumb over Rosa’s lips._

_“No.” Rosa took a pause, and then asked, “Do you?”_

_“No.” And, with a kiss, their love was sealed. It was done._

_\---_

Folded in the arms of her lover, Lady Dedlock is assailed with memories. Rosa’s mouth works magic upon her throat and, tilting her head back, Lady Dedlock allows the flashes of remembrance to pass through her mind.

 

She remembers quarreling with her sister over a porcelain doll. She had conceded defeat and had given the doll to her sister, wanting only to ensure that she never caused her sister any undue pain. She had no idea at the naïve age of seven that her own beloved sibling, for whom she had done everything to protect, would betray her.

 

She remembers the way James Hawdon smelled when he was lying in her arms. It was a scent she attributed solely to him, all sweat and tobacco and cologne. She would smell his letters and feel, for the briefest of moments, that he was near. His letters lost his scent when she had been given word that he had perished.

 

She remembers clutching her belly just days before she went into a long, arduous labor, whispering to her unborn child that it would be loved despite it meaning her ruin. She had promised to take care of it, to protect it, and to give it the greatest life she could. She only saw the child for a moment before it was taken away, before she had taken ill, and before she had been told that it had died.

 

She remembers Sir Leicester’s devoted courtship and the look of pride and love on his face when she spoke her marital vows. He had promised her a life of happiness, of wealth, of comfort.  She remembers the feeling of dread that engulfed her when she sealed her vows with a kiss.

 

She remembers the words of their trusted physician, who told her in confidence that because of the complications of her first pregnancy, she would be unable to conceive. She remembers the weightless feeling of her pockets after she paid him handsomely to keep her secret.

 

She remembers endless days of gray skies, parties with people whose faces she doesn’t care to recollect, nights of unceasing tears.

 

She remembers setting eyes on Rosa for the first time and that overwhelmingly tight feeling in her chest as she studied the prettiness of her face. She remembers cautioning her against flattery, not knowing at the time that it would be she who would spoil her.

 

These are the events that have brought her here to this night, to this parlor, to this kiss that she shares with a woman unworthy of her love. Fate has been cruel to Lady Dedlock and she is not so naïve or foolish as to believe that her happiness will last forever. She has known too much pain to allow Rosa to slip so soon from her fingers and so she clings tightly to her, making promises that she knows she will be unable to keep.

 

\---

 

_Lady Dedlock stared with colored cheeks at the letter that had arrived from her cousin. She glanced over scrawling script, taking in words that indicated the letter was filled with the usual chatter of gossip and subtle gloating about how much the children had grown. She did not absorb the content, did not even bother to try; she could not concentrate when Rosa was sitting so near._

_Cautioning a glance, Lady Dedlock surmised that Rosa was diligently hemming the worn sleeve of one of her mistress’s older dresses. Her nimble fingers worked the needle with care and ease, patching the hole before she began to replace the lace that had torn._

_Rosa’s eyes quickly shot up and met her own. They both flushed, each sharing a mutual thought, and glanced back down at their respective distractions. Across the room, Mrs. Rouncewell filled each candelabrum with fresh candles. Once the final candle had been put into place, the housekeeper announced that she would be setting about taking care of the linens._

_“I have done that already this morning, Mrs. Rouncewell,” Rosa announced, smiling sweetly._

_The older housekeeper was taken aback. “You did? Why ever for?”_

_“I thought to help you.”_

_“Thank you, Rosa,” Mrs. Rouncewell said, regarding the lady’s maid carefully. “Had you wished for more responsibility?”_

_Lady Dedlock swallowed, thankful that Rosa had taken care of the mussed linens from her own bed chamber. She judiciously looked away, allowing her housekeeper to attend to her charge._

_“I see how hard you work,” Rosa lied, “and thought I might take this task on myself.”_

_“Fine then. You’ll take care of the linens. Next time, don’t be so presumptuous about your duties. Don’t forget that I run the housekeeping in this estate.”_

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

_“Yes,” Lady Dedlock agreed, adding a note of disinterest to her voice. “Take care that you follow your orders. Disobedience is frowned upon, child.”_

_“Yes, my Lady.”_

_Mrs. Rouncewell let herself out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. When the housekeeper had gone, each woman let out a collective sigh of relief._

_“It is imperative that you are more careful, Rosa.” Lady Dedlock set aside the bit of parchment._

_The young woman nodded. “I only meant to ensure that no evidence of last night was left behind,” she said with a blush._

_Lady Dedlock let out a sigh as images of Rosa’s naked body flooded her mind. She reached for her fan, snapped it open, and flicked her wrist in order to allow a slight breeze to cool her heated flesh. It did little good and, with a resolute sigh, she tossed it aside._

_Rosa watched curiously as Lady Dedlock crossed the room and gathered Rosa into her arms. Rosa let out a squeak of pleasure as their lips met. She curled one arm around Lady Dedlock’s shoulders and held her other hand, still gripping the needle, behind her back. Rosa’s tongue roved wickedly inside Lady Dedlock’s mouth._

_“I’ve wanted to do that all morning,” Lady Dedlock confessed, tilting her forehead against Rosa’s. “Perhaps now I’ll be able to think clearly.”_

_Rosa pressed another lingering kiss to her mistress’s lips before she allowed herself to be pushed back into her seat. She took up her needle and the lacework and frowned. “I could do that all day and be content.”_

_Lady Dedlock paced the room, finding that her limbs were restless. “As could I.”_

_“Can I come to you tonight?”_

_The promise of lovemaking set Lady Dedlock aflame and she took up her fan once more. “We shall see. Let us get through the day first.”_

_Rosa smiled broadly. “You’ll have to find more chores for me, you know. I will need tasks to occupy my fingers.”_

_Lady Dedlock shuddered. “Behave.”_

_Rosa smirked and continued with her sewing._

_“You are a naughty little thing, aren’t you? What else did they teach you in the village?”_

_“Many things; perhaps I will share some of them with you later.”_

_Lady Dedlock tutted at her maid. “What am I going to do with you? No—don’t answer that.”_

_Rosa laughed. “I cannot help it. I feel giddy when I’m with you. I feel…like myself.”_

_It was as if Rosa had taken the words from Lady Dedlock’s mouth, but years of solitude and weariness convinced her to keep her vow of agreement to herself. Instead, Lady Dedlock asked, “Were you happy growing up in the village?”_

_“Very much so. I came from a loving family.”_

_“The Cartwrights. Yes. Do you miss them?”_

_Rosa considered her answer carefully. “Sometimes. I still see them on my free afternoons on Sundays. It’s as if I left one home for another.”_

_“Do you feel at home here?”_

_“With you, yes. I would feel at home with you in a hovel.”_

_Lady Dedlock laughed at the thought._

_“Can you not imagine yourself in such a low state?” Rosa quirked an eyebrow. “Are you so high above the rest of us simple folk?”_

_Lady Dedlock licked her lips. “I was brought up to belong to this life. I wouldn’t know how to survive any other way.”_

_Rosa nodded slowly and stared at her work._

_“Rosa, do you ever wish you were born into wealth?”_

_The maid worked her needle for several moments before she set it down. “I have seen how money can corrupt a family. It is not true that one could be happier with a large bank account. I am happy where I am. I am happy to be alive, to be with you, to not know greed.” She smiled. “I could leave tomorrow and make a very happy life for myself without a purse full of coins.”_

_Lady Dedlock chose not to point out how unrealistic it would be for an unmarried woman of nineteen to make a life for herself and instead focused on another point. “And would you?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Leave me?”_

_Rosa smiled brightly, her eyes alight at her mistress’s worry. “Not if I were given the choice.”_

_\---_

“Yes,” Lady Dedlock whispers, biting her tongue as three of Rosa’s fingers slip inside of her. She relishes the stretch and pull of the digits within her tight center and when she moves, it is with the sweetest combination of pleasure and pain. The pleasure builds quickly, as if they had not made love only a few hours prior.

 

Rosa’s lips latch upon her mistress’s throat, kissing and licking and sucking while Lady Dedlock rises and falls upon her fingers. Lady Dedlock grips her shoulders for support, rocking her hips at a quicker pace until the pressure is too much and she comes with a small cry. Her body is wracked with exquisite delight and she chases every second of it.

 

Rosa eases her fingers carefully out of Lady Dedlock, taking care to keep them from wiping the copious moisture against the muslin of her nightgown. They kiss slowly, languidly, as if they have the entirety of the night to whisper sweet nothings and buss like village lovers.

 

They nuzzle at each other, taking delight in the smoothness of their bodies with each passing caress. Lady Dedlock exhales slowly and revels in the feel of her lover’s arms around her. “My love,” she whispers.

 

There is the briefest moment of calm—pure, steady quietness—before Lady Dedlock’s world ends. It’s as if she knows what is coming; she is tense before Sir Leicester opens the door.

 

“I reached out for you and you weren’t—“ The door swings open and the sentence hangs unfinished in the air as Sir Leicester catches sight of his wife sitting atop her maid.

 

Lady Dedlock quickly dismounts her beloved and grips the edges of the top of her gown, clinging to whatever modesty remains and covering the ghost of kisses that lie beneath.

 

“What is this?” His eyes pass quickly between his wife and his servant, his mouth agape and quivering with disbelief. He loses his balance and clutches the handle of the door.

 

“My husband, please…” Lady Dedlock takes a step forward, noticing in the periphery that Rosa has jumped to her feet. The girl is frightened; Lady Dedlock can smell the fear comingled with her own in the heavy atmosphere of the room.

 

With a choking sob, Sir Leicester falls forward, his body hitting the unforgiving hardwood floor hard. His body jerks. He gags for air.

 

Lady Dedlock rushes to him, kneeling beside him and turning him to lie on his back. It is possible that Rosa has screamed, but she can hear nothing but the sound of her husband straining to breathe. She tugs at the buttons of his shirt though she knows she has done little to help him.

 

“Wake Sir Leicester’s valet. Send him for the doctor immediately.” Lady Dedlock stares into the dark eyes of her husband. He’s afraid. He’s hurt. She looks up at Rosa, who has remained motionless. “ _Go!”_

 

Rosa rushes from the room. Lady Dedlock grabs her husband’s twitching hand, squeezing it firmly. It is cold and clammy. He does not squeeze back.

 

\---

 

_Lady Dedlock turned with an expectant smile as the door opened, though her shoulders drooped slightly as she met Mrs. Rouncewell’s eyes. She gave a smile and turned back to the letter she was writing. She bit her lip in disappointment as the older woman began to polish the mantelpiece and wondered what occupation detained Rosa from meeting her._

_Rosa’s absence sparked a train of thought that Lady Dedlock had been reluctant to focus upon. There were instances where their stations in life were made significantly apparent, this being one of them. She was forced to remember that Rosa was an employee, someone of little wealth. She was in love with the very woman who washed her drawers._

_It seemed oddly poetic that the course of Lady Dedlock’s love had taken her across the spectrum of wealth and breeding; Sir Leicester was at the very height, James Hawdon in the middle, and Rosa at the very bottom. She’d lived the first half of her life in James Hawdon’s middle class environment and had found herself mostly content. Sir Leicester took her from that life as if she were an orphaned gutter rat, bestowing upon her the same luxury and creed that she’d only dreamt of as a child. She’d grown accustomed to this life, had come to find herself at home despite its formalities and conventions and restrictions._

_There were times when Lady Dedlock envied Rosa for her freedom. While the young woman had very little money to her name, she had a way about herself that exuded contentedness. Following church on Sundays, Rosa was free to wander into the village and spend time with her family or daydream in the fields or laugh with old friends. There was no one to take note of her every move, no one to remind her that her status as a Lady was being compromised in any way. She was simply Rosa with no strings attached._

_Could there be any happiness for two people—two women—on  separate ends of the scale?_

_With a frown, Lady Dedlock realized that she had dripped ink over the words she had written to her husband’s cousin. She shook her head and discarded the parchment, preparing to start another letter. The very task was a chore in and of itself, but to begin all over was nearly unbearable._

_Lady Dedlock turned her head to the housekeeper, watching as the woman wiped her rag along the glass face of a clock. “Mrs. Rouncewell?”_

_The older woman turned sharply. “My Lady? Is there something I can do for you?”_

_Lady Dedlock smiled reassuringly. “No…I merely meant to ask after your family.”_

_Mrs. Rouncewell relaxed visibly and smiled. “They’re very well. My son keeps very busy. It’s been ages since I’ve seen him.”_

_Lady Dedlock nodded, dismissing her irrational dislike of her housekeeper’s son. “And your grandson?”_

_“Oh, he’s well enough.” Mrs. Rouncewell polished the side of the clock. “He’s been a bit worse for wear, but he’s resilient. He’ll bounce back soon enough.”_

_“Has he been ill?”_

_“No,” Mrs. Rouncewell replied, crossing herself. “Just a little lovesick is all.”_

_Lady Dedlock nodded slowly. “He is still in love with Rosa?”_

_“He’s young. He’s never been in love before…it’ll take some time for him to move on.”_

_“Do you think I’ve done wrong by him, Mrs. Rouncewell? By keeping Rosa in my charge?” Lady Dedlock asked boldly._

_Mrs. Rouncewell shifted awkwardly and frowned. “As your housekeeper, I think you did what was best. As his grandmother, well…”_

_Lady Dedlock sighed. “I am glad to hear that your kin is in good health.”_

_“My Lady is kind for making the inquiry.” Mrs. Rouncewell dipped into a bow. “If I may be excused?”_

_“Of course.” Lady Dedlock turned back to her table, biting her lip in contemplation. She thought of the boy who harbored the same love as she and wondered, not for the first time, if Rosa wouldn’t be better off as his betrothed rather than her lover._

_Outside the little room, somewhere down the long corridor, Lady Dedlock heard Rosa’s voice. The sound of it warmed her, pushing away her doubts._

_\---_

 

As directed by the doctor, Lady Dedlock stands outside the room in which she is not permitted. She paces outside the bed chamber of her husband, waiting impatiently for an update. By the time the doctor had arrived, Sir Leicester’s seizing had ceased. He was all but unconscious when he was moved to his own room.

 

It is her fault.

 

She hears footsteps on the stairs and pays them no mind, focusing only on the quietness on the other side of the door. She taps her finger repetitively against her pursed lips.

 

It should have been her. Whatever has afflicted her husband should have been her price to pay for her sins, not his.

 

Lady Dedlock stares with unfeeling eyes as Rosa comes down the corridor, clutching one of her mistress’s shawls tightly to her chest. She holds it out and drapes it around her mistress’s shoulders, waiting hesitantly for some word of acknowledgment. Lady Dedlock does not say anything but accepts the shawl. There had been a time where she would have purposely caressed Rosa’s fingers with her own during an exchange such as this, but she cannot stand the thought of touching her when her husband might be dying.

 

“How is he?” Rosa asks quietly. Lady Dedlock can hear the concern and the fear on the young woman’s tongue.

 

“I don’t know,” Lady Dedlock replies crisply. She stares at the solid oak door, willing it to open.

 

“Would you like a chair? Or some tea?”

 

“No,” she snaps. “Leave me.”

 

“Are you sure?” Rosa steps closer, resting a hand upon her forearm.

 

Lady Dedlock jumps back at the touch. “It is because of this that he is on death’s door. I cannot be near you right now.”

 

“Honoria…” Rosa utters, so quietly that Lady Dedlock thinks it is the wind. What is this word that she has whispered? Who is this woman? In this dank, dark hallway, Lady Dedlock does not know anymore.

 

“Go. It is best that you go.” Lady Dedlock glances at Rosa’s trembling bottom lip and turns her back, not looking back until Rosa is gone.

 

\---

 

_Husband and wife stood together in the hallway, each preparing to retire to his and her separate wing of the house. Rosa stood obediently by, holding a candle that illuminated the couple._

_This was the time of day that Lady Dedlock had come to abhor. She shivered unpleasantly; her tremble did not go unnoticed by her husband._

_“This damn hall is so drafty,” Sir Leicester remarked. “Best you get to bed before you catch a chill.”_

_“And you as well, my dear,” Lady Dedlock responded. Behind her, Rosa shuffled her feet uncomfortably. The older woman knew without having to look at her that the maid was struggling to keep from watching the display._

_Sir Leicester leaned forward and it was with careful consideration that she did not present him with her cheek. She met his kiss obediently as her heart thudded hard in her chest._

_“Goodnight, my love,” Sir Leicester said, giving his wife a warm, loving smile before he turned in the direction of his rooms, followed closely by his attendant._

_“Goodnight.” Lady Dedlock swept past Rosa, not meeting her eye until they were safely behind the closed doors of her quarters. When she spared a glance, Rosa adamantly looked anywhere but at her mistress._

_“Rosa.”_

_“Yes?”_

_Lady Dedlock knew what troubled the young woman; it was written plainly across her face. They’d repeated that nightly display for months, and this was the most shaken and disturbed that Rosa had ever been. “What’s the matter?”_

_Rosa chewed her lip as she loosened the lacing at the back of Lady Dedlock’s dress. She took a deep breath. “It is…difficult to watch you kiss someone else.”_

_“You don’t have to look.”_

_“I’ll still know that it’s happening.” Rosa sighed as she removed the heavy burgundy-colored dress. “That doesn’t make it any easier.”_

_Lady Dedlock’s stomach roiled with nausea and guilt. How could it be that, despite the legality of her marriage in the eyes of the law and of God, that she felt that she was being unfaithful to Rosa? How had only a few months given her the sort of love she’d only known a fraction of in a marriage of two decades?_

_She avoided her face in the mirror. She could not look at the woman who held two lives firmly in her hands. So immersed was Lady Dedlock that she could not conceive of letting go of either; she could not survive without her lover or her husband._

_Rosa busied herself with putting away her mistress’s gown, sulking morosely. Lady Dedlock could not bear the look of displeasure that marred Rosa’s pretty features. She crossed the room and swept Rosa’s hands into her own. “If only you knew how little you had to be jealous of,” Lady Dedlock said, pressing kisses into the centers of Rosa’s palms. “It is you that I love.”_

_Rosa contemplated her words though she could not control the crimson stain that crept over her cheeks at Lady Dedlock’s quick-moving mouth. “Do you love him?”_

_Lady Dedlock paused. “Perhaps I did, once. Whether I love him now is neither here nor there; he is my husband. That won’t change.” Without giving Rosa the chance to reply, she gathered the girl into her arms and held her tightly. “Let’s not dwell on things we can’t change. We have each other.” She kissed Rosa’s forehead. “We have tonight.” She tucked her fingers under Rosa’s chin and lifted her head. “Will you stay?”_

_Rosa nodded sadly and took Lady Dedlock’s mouth with her own._

_\---_

 

For three nights and three days, Lady Dedlock sits at her husband’s bedside, reading him passages from the newspaper, the Bible, and various books of poetry. She is unsure if he can hear her; his lucidity is infrequent. Most of his time is passed in laudanum-induced oblivion.  There have been times over the past days that Lady Dedlock has stared longingly at the tiny vial, wishing for relief from the hell she’s been living.  The physical pain that her husband has endured is incomparable to the pain that consumes her soul.

 

She sets down the newspaper and watches his face, her heart twisting as she takes in the sight of his slackened features. His mouth, often set in a haughty line, droops on one corner. The doctor says that this will likely never go away, that the damage will severely and permanently affect his speech and movement. He will never be Sir Leicester again; the deadened left side of his body has trapped him within the already-unhealthy shell of his body. His gout-ridden limbs will not allow him the strength to recover.

 

Lady Dedlock strokes the white whiskers on the side of his face, careful not to jostle him from his sleep. She has yet to speak to him; she has had neither the courage nor the words to explain the sight that provoked his affliction. According to the physician, he had been experiencing symptoms of his stroke for hours. It had caused his inability to sleep. It had restricted his breathing. It would have happened whether or not he had witnessed a shock.

 

She cannot help but blame herself. If she had never succumbed to the weakness of love, she would have been with him when he fell ill. He would not have fallen in anguished disappointment.

 

She has been strong during these past few days. She has kept her tears to a minimum and has efficiently directed the running of the house. Mrs. Rouncewell has kept visitors at bay and has handled minor disturbances. Rosa has done little tasks for her mistress, though her presence has been altogether ignored. Lady Dedlock cannot stand to look at her, for even on the innocent face of her love, she can only see her shame.

 

Lady Dedlock studies her husband, silently begging forgiveness for tainting the honor that had been of such importance to him. She whispers quiet apologies for her infidelities, for disappointing him, and for inducing the illness that might take his life. Despite her fear of facing him, she prays to God that she will have the opportunity to speak her words to his attentive ears.

 

A rumble low in her stomach reminds her that she hasn’t eaten in over a day. With a sigh of resignation, she concedes that she won’t help her husband by fainting from hunger and leaves his room in search of food.

 

She is not surprised to meet Rosa in the hall. She is holding a tray of soup, looking awkwardly around her.

 

“How long have you been standing here?” Lady Dedlock asks, nodding her head in the direction of her parlor.

 

“A while. I was afraid to disturb you.”

 

Lady Dedlock nods and takes a seat at her writing desk, allowing Rosa to set the tray before her. As she suspects, the soup is cold. She consumes it anyway, not tasting it as it rolls over her tongue and slides down her throat. Rosa stands nearby, watching.

 

When Lady Dedlock sets down her spoon, she turns slowly in her chair, her throat already constricting around the words she knows she has to speak. They must register on her face; as soon as Rosa sees her, her resolve crumbles and she begins to cry.

 

“I know what you’re going to say,” Rosa says, collapsing onto the loveseat. She sobs into the crook of her elbow, her blue dress catching the fat tears that roll down her cheeks.

 

Lady Dedlock’s heart breaks at the sight of her beloved’s misery. She flocks to her side and drapes herself alongside her body, kissing her shoulder and arm and head as she tips Rosa into her arms. “It is for the best.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’ve done the greatest possible disservice to you, Rosa, by loving you. I should have given you the freedom to marry Mr. Rouncewell’s son. I should have let you go rather than entangle you in this web.”

 

“I don’t love him! I don’t want to be with him. I want to be with _you_.” Rosa looks up at Lady Dedlock, her eyes bloodshot from days of crying. “Please don’t send me away.”

 

“There is no future for us, Rosa.” Lady Dedlock chokes back tears. “There never was.”

 

“I won’t go.”

 

“You have to. I won’t keep you. I can’t.” Lady Dedlock squeezes Rosa’s hand tightly in her own. “You deserve a chance to be happy.”

 

“What about your happiness?” Rosa demands, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. “What if—“

 

Lady Dedlock frowns. “Whether he lives or dies, it is my duty to take care of him. I have broken every other promise…this one I will keep.”

 

“But…he may not survive….what then?”

 

Lady Dedlock’s eyes flash. “You would wish death upon a kind man for the sake of an affair?”

 

“No! Of course not! The doctor himself said that we should all be prepared for the inevitable.”

 

“Rosa, this is why you have to go.” Lady Dedlock stands and puts some distance between them. “I have an obligation as his wife. What I want, or who I want, is irrelevant. I’ve had my chance to live. This,” she says, motioning to the bleak gray walls around her gaunt, drawn form, “is the life I chose twenty years ago. You haven’t had your chance. _Live_ , Rosa. I cannot allow you to stay and die with me.”

 

The blonde sobs harder in her hands, shaking her head in her inability to accept what she’s been ordered to do. Lady Dedlock bites her tongue to refrain from crying and rushes into her bedroom, opening the drawer to her vanity. She pushes aside a bundle of letters and a loose ribbon, reaching for a velvet pouch in the back corner. It clinks heavily in her hands.

 

She returns to Rosa’s side and presses the pouch into her hands. “Take this. It’s everything I’ve ever saved. It’s yours.”

 

“I don’t want your money,” Rosa says miserably.

 

Lady Dedlock cannot blame the younger woman but insists, “It is a small fortune, Rosa. You’d be a fool to turn it down.”

 

“Then I am your fool.”

 

Lady Dedlock cupped Rosa’s face in her hands and kissed her gently, savoring the feel of her lips one final time. “I am dismissing you, Rosa. I have no other choice.”

 

Rosa stands abruptly, tucking the bag of money into her pocket. “You have a choice, Honoria…you simply made the wrong one.” She walks swiftly to the door and pauses, looking back at Lady Dedlock one final time. “Tell me to leave,” Rosa whispers, recalling words from an earlier, happier time.

 

Lady Dedlock’s voice cracks. “Leave.”

 

As soon as the door shuts behind her, Lady Dedlock breaks down and cries until she cannot breathe.

 

\---

 

_Lady Dedlock headed towards the kitchen, hoping for a sprig of mint to add to the tea she had just poured for Sir Leicester and his solicitor. She always felt a sort of strangeness interloping on the sacred space of her staff, feeling as though she were an intruder in her own home. It was silly, she knew, but she allowed them this haven._

_As she neared the doorway, she heard the brusque voice of her housekeeper. Owing to her boredom and curiosity, Lady Dedlock paused to listen._

_“I’m not saying that you should distance yourself, Rosa,” Mrs. Rouncewell said._

_Lady Dedlock’s brow knit together. She strained to listen._

_“It’s not as if we’re close,” Rosa countered._

_“Close, no. But you’re attached. It never bodes well to become attached to your mistress. Look at Hortense. Take my word for it, Rosa. Be smart.”_

_“I_ am _smart,” Rosa replied defensively._

_Mrs. Rouncewell’s sigh was audible from even the hall. “That may be so. All I’m saying is that lady’s maids are replaceable. There are a hundred of girls out there that’d serve the same purpose as you. You’d best not become too indispensable.”_

_Lady Dedlock swayed a little in her spot and turned back towards the library. She offered an excuse to her husband about the lack of mint and made a desperate attempt to push the conversation she overheard from her mind. What good would it do to dwell on Mrs. Rouncewell’s harsh assessment? Neither she nor Rosa could tell the housekeeper just how close they were, and there was also a level of truth to her words. Mrs. Rouncewell had been with the family for decades; she had seen young women come and go. She of all people knew what Lady Dedlock was capable of._

_She focused her attention upon her husband, hoping instead to fill her mind with useless drivel that would bear no lasting mark on her memory._

_\---_

 

If anyone suspects why Rosa has been dismissed, they keep it to themselves. Mrs. Rouncewell has made several inquiries as to whether or not she will be replaced, and Lady Dedlock is adamantly opposed. No one can take Rosa’s place, though she will not admit as much. To her housekeeper, Lady Dedlock says that she is too preoccupied with her husband’s poor health to be bothered with such a trivial task. It is not a complete lie.

 

Lady Dedlock fears that Sir Leicester is not long for this world. She can tell almost by the scent of him that death is near. It’s the same scent that has clouded her senses for nearly forty years.

 

She stands in the hall and stares out the window, watching the rain as it falls steadily upon the woods outside. She considers taking the air but cannot afford to leave her husband’s side at such a crucial time. She also knows that if she were to fall in the rain, there would be no one to help her to her feet.

 

Sir Leicester’s attendant comes into the hall and announces that her husband is awake. Lady Dedlock’s eyebrows climb her forehead at the news and she can do nothing but take advantage of it, knowing another opportunity may never present itself.

 

She steps carefully into the room, aware of the loud clack of her shoes against the floor. She cannot bear the sound and so she toes them off, leaving them by the door as she crosses to her husband’s bed.

 

Lady Dedlock feels more like a child about to be punished for a wrong-doing than like an adulteress. Either way, she has betrayed him, and facing him in her shame makes her feel as though she has swallowed granite.

 

She moves to take the chair beside his bed but his eyes, ever watchful, catch hers; he looks pointedly at the space beside him. She gathers her dress and sits on the bed.

 

Lady Dedlock looks into the eyes of her husband, at the side of his face that is drawn and immobile, and cannot stop the tear that falls down her cheek. “Oh my husband,” she whispers, taking his healthy hand in hers. “I am sorry for the wrongs I have done. I am not a good woman. I have never deserved the love you gave me…I will never forgive myself for what I have done to you.” She begins to cry in earnest, dropping her head so he cannot see the grief that wracks her face. “They tell me you are not well…I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I could not allow the chance to speak with you pass by. I’m so sorry.”

 

She looks at his face. A tear slowly descends down his cheek, catching in the line of his whiskers. The sight of it tears her apart; she has never seen him cry.

 

“You have been a dear friend to me,” she says. “I have never known a better man.”

 

They sit together in silence for what feels like an eternity. He watches her, studying her face as if it will be the last time he sees it. She can have no way of knowing what he is thinking, or if he would have had any inclination of responding. She considers sending his attendant for a slate and chalk, but he is communicating effortlessly simply by the look in his eyes. He has not turned away from her and he has not closed his eyes to her. She wonders if he has the strength to do so.

 

Alas, to her surprise, he squeezes her hand in his. It is not the grip of an angry man, nor is it the grip of a judge. It is the grip of a man who accepts his wife. It is an act that she does not deserve. Even now, as he nears the hour of his death, he proves himself to be a better person than she.

 

He does not live through the night.

 

\---

 

_To Lady Dedlock’s complete lack of surprise, it began to rain again. Rosa threw her cloak over both of their heads and they ran for cover under the foliage of a nearby tree. Though the rain still seeped down through the branches, they were a fair bit more comfortable there._

_Rosa laughed at it all, her beautiful face covered in drops of rain. Lady Dedlock kissed away each droplet, focusing lastly on Rosa’s perfectly pink mouth. They kissed, tongues stroking insistently, as hands clutched at damp fabric. Rosa pressed her mistress against the tree, pinning her body with her own as she lapped and suckled at Lady Dedlock’s throat._

_“We mustn’t…” Lady Dedlock uttered hopelessly, already spreading her legs as wide as she could._

_Rosa did not answer; she simply pressed her hand hard between her mistress’s legs. Even through the barriers of gown and undergarments, Lady Dedlock felt the heat of Rosa’s hand as she pressed hard against her sex._

_Fleeting thoughts flitted through her mind: the cost of her dress and underthings, the time it would take Rosa to wash the tree bark and moss from her cloak, the possibility of an intruder spying their deeds. Each thought was tossed away by each urgent thrust of her hips and each passionate kiss._

_The rocking of their bodies brought Lady Dedlock to a quick, shuddering climax. As the spasms coursed through her body like wildfire, she opened her eyes and looked at Rosa’s face, slick with rain against a backdrop of the beautiful grounds of Chesney Wold.  It was the most breathtaking moment Lady Dedlock had ever experienced and, when she had finished, she gathered Rosa into her arms and held her tightly._

_“You are so very precious to me,” she said, kissing Rosa’s temple. “No matter what happens, never forget that you are my beloved.”_

_\---_

Lady Dedlock steps out of the carriage and decides quite impulsively to bypass the footpath that would lead her to the door. She walks instead along the grounds of Chesney Wold, looking upon each familiar shrub and tree with great acuity through her black veil. Her world seems somewhat sharper, somewhat clearer. She cannot pinpoint why; it has been some months since her husband passed and since Rosa had gone. Nothing is new, nothing has changed and yet, something has.

 

She walks along the terrace, her gloved fingers tracing the cement walls as she passes. She eyes a seat nearby; it is covered in fallen leaves and dirt. Not caring for the state of her drab black mourning gown, she wipes off the seat of the chair and sits down, looking out once more at her surroundings.

 

The day is cold and somber; it fits her mood rather perfectly. She peers at the world enmeshed with gray before she tucks her veil over her hat and clears her view. She feels chilled; this is the sort of occasion where she could have expected Rosa to attend her with a shawl not because she had ordered it, but because she cared for her warmth.

 

Lady Dedlock never did hire another lady’s maid. She prefers taking care of herself. Self-sufficiency had never been a concept familiar to her, and she now finds it gratifying to do little things that would have normally been done for her. The servants believe that she has acquired a touch of eccentricity after the death of their master. Perhaps she has.

 

She thinks of Leicester then, as she does often. She wonders if he is at peace; if there is an afterlife, there would certainly be no obnoxious neighbors or legal squabbles or gout or unfaithful spouses. She attends church every Sunday though the words of each sermon hold little resonance for her now. Her priest speaks of absolution, of penance, of good deeds, of God’s forgiving grace.  Prayers feel hollow to her now. What is there to pray for? She cares not for her own self. She could be struck down by God Almighty and it would no longer matter.

 

Lady Dedlock thinks of the laudanum tucked away in her vanity, though she knows she will not use it. She has nothing to live for and she has nothing to die for. She simply exists, passing each day with a fractured soul that leaves her feeling lifeless and trapped in the cage of her body. On the outside, she appears to be a woman in mourning. Inside, she has turned to stone.

 

She does not pray for Rosa, but every spare thought she possesses is occupied by the young woman’s face. She tries to imagine what her former maid’s life must be like now that she has entered into marriage. Perhaps she is happy. Perhaps Lady Dedlock has already been forgotten.

 

She no longer feels the sharp, stinging pain when she thinks of the losses she has endured. She has dulled to sensation over time. It is a blessing and a curse.

 

Lady Dedlock clasps her gloved fingers and peers at them in her lap, considering for the first time that she has the rest of her lifetime to pass in desolate days such as this. Thinking upon the endless gray misery that awaits her during the duration of her life is a cruelty she cannot inflict upon herself for long. She must simply accept that her time for love and happiness has passed.

 

She closes her eyes to the thought. It’s so overwhelmingly harsh that her head spins. Can she truly endure a lifetime of this lifelessness?

 

She knows she does not deserve happiness. This endless road has been paved by her own sins and choices. Once, she fell in the rain and wanted to become part of the rubble. Now, she is the rubble. She is no better than dirt and mud. She is devastation and chaos. She is her own devil. She is now simply Honoria, a woman turned to stone by her own ruin. She has nothing more than a sedentary life ahead of her.

 

Lady Dedlock does not have the strength to survive this. She makes her decision before she even gives her mind the chance to think it through. Easing her weary body from the chair, she seeks entrance back into her home and looks for her elderly housekeeper. She finds Mrs. Rouncewell marking the ledger with the day’s purchases.

 

“I need the address of your grandson,” Lady Dedlock announces.

 

Mrs. Rouncewell’s eyebrows rise in confusion. “My grandson?”

 

“Yes. I…have something of Rosa’s. I wish to give it back to her.”

 

“My Lady,” Mrs. Rouncewell says, a look of curious concern on her face, “Rosa and my grandson did not marry.”

 

Lady Dedlock attempts to hide her surprise. “I thought…I believed them to be betrothed after I dismissed her.”

 

The housekeeper shook her head with a frown. “No, my Lady. It seems that Rosa had other intentions. She left the village…said she had a stash of money she’d saved and meant to make her own way.” Mrs. Rouncewell’s frown deepens. “She didn’t steal it from you, did she? There were rumors…”

 

“No,” Lady Dedlock says sharply. “Whatever she has is her own.” She sighs. “Do you know where I might find her?”

 

Mrs. Rouncewell nods. “She lives about ten miles out of Lincolnshire. I’ll give you the address.”

 

Lady Dedlock moves in something like a trance once the paper is tucked in her hand and she orders her carriage to make the trek. She has no idea of the gravity of what she is doing, but in this moment she does not care. Given the choice between life and death, she chooses life. She knows that Sir Leicester loved her enough to hope she’d make the correct choice. She hopes that she is not wrong.

 

The journey takes a lifetime; it’s more time than Lady Dedlock wishes to spare but she has little say in the speed of the horses. She allows herself to be jostled in the carriage. She allows her mind to give in to self-doubt and fear, though she has already chosen her road. She cannot turn back now. The heart beating within her chest does not belong to her; it is Rosa’s, and she deserves it back.

 

When the carriage slows, she glances out the window at a small cottage. She has no idea how Rosa has made a living all these months and has no idea if she will even be accepted. This does not stop her from stepping onto the ground, ordering her driver to take leave in the nearest town until he is summoned, and walking to the door.

 

She knocks and holds her breath. She waits, listening hard. She knocks again, this time a little louder. The third time she knocks, she’s nearly pounding down the door. It’s no matter; Rosa is not at home.

 

Lady Dedlock stares around her, taking in the sight of the small house and the surrounding area. It’s comfortable, but by no means extravagant. It’s very befitting for the former maid.

 

She stares at the empty road, wishing now that she hadn’t dismissed her driver. She entertains the idea of walking in the direction of the nearest town but has neither the strength nor the inclination to do more than lean against the stone doorway.

 

It disturbs her greatly that Rosa isn’t here—but why should she be? After months of silence, why should Lady Dedlock be presumptuous enough to assume that Rosa would be sitting idly by? The impulsivity of her excursion was foolish; it had simply occurred to her that waiting any longer in a state of constant misery was futile.

 

And now, she is alone. She wonders if this is a sign from God, from Leicester, from James, from the child she lost—perhaps this simply is not meant to be. Something shifts in her, something strongly akin to devastating sadness, and she suppresses a sob. She hasn’t cried in months. Now is not the time to start.

 

With a reluctant, disappointed sigh, Lady Dedlock turns back towards the gate.

 

Rosa is there.

 

They stare at each other for a long moment, Lady Dedlock’s heart pounding so quickly that she fears she may faint. And, as if no time has passed, Rosa opens the gate and approaches her. Her face is flushed from the cold, though the color visibly reddens as she nears her former mistress.

 

 “You came,” Rosa says, her voice light.

 

Lady Dedlock hardly knows what to say; after months of suffocating nothingness, seeing Rosa gives her a supreme feeling of resuscitation. The influx of air and beauty and warmth makes her feel like a love struck teenager. “Yes,” she manages to say, her mouth suddenly dry.

 

“I waited for you.”

 

“You knew I’d come? I did not even know.”

 

Rosa’s smile chisels away at the granite surrounding her heart. “I knew.” She extends her hand. Lady Dedlock removes her glove, takes Rosa’s hand, and follows her into the cottage.

 

\---

END.

 

 


End file.
